


Speechless

by LamiasLuck



Series: Timid Speech [9]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drawing, Fluff, Lost Voice, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 07:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamiasLuck/pseuds/LamiasLuck
Summary: The Host overused his voice and needs to rest it. Which means absolutely no talking from the man that never shuts up. No narrations. No way of "seeing" anything. Understandably, the Host isn't happy about this situation, which is evident by him locking himself in his room and waiting impatiently for his ailment to pass. Leave it up to Eric to try to cheer up his sulking boyfriend!





	Speechless

The Host was a man of many words, but there are times where he was left speechless. His narrations eventually left him tired and breathless. Overexertion has always been his main fault. As much as he tended to overwork himself, there are times where he fell silent for his sanity’s sake. Or for the sake of those that care about him, they were quite vocal about their worries. Like Eric, for example, who nearly had a panic attack after hearing that he lost his voice. 

Ever since a particularly heated argument with Google, the Host found solace resting in his room instead of his library. His bed has never felt more comfortable. It was quiet, too quiet. The silence became deafening quickly, and his comfortable seclusion soon became a prison. Another groan made it past his lips as he tried to relax further within the bed’s covers. His fingers itched with the need to work, and his mind buzzed with ideas begging to be said. If he couldn’t speak or work, who was he? Just a completely blind man that hoped his ailment would pass soon.

The door creaked open slowly, and the Host heard someone shuffle inside.

“Hey Host… I, um, I got you some tea.” Eric’s familiar voice made him smile as soon as he heard it. “It has s-some honey and-and lemon… Edward said it should help.” 

Soft, gentle hands guided his calloused ones towards a warm mug of tea. 

“It should be fine to drink, I-I think at least.”

“The H-” His croaky tone was interrupted by a fit of coughs. The Host sat upright, careful not to spill his drink, as he continued to cough in his sleeve. He felt Eric pat his back lightly to guide him through his fit. Once that hell finally finished, he layed back against the pillows with another groan.

“Please don’t-don't speak,” Eric instructed, his voice laced with concern. “It’s alright, I understand.”

The Host only replied by nodding his head this time. He brought the mug to his lips and reveled in the tea’s soothing taste. It didn’t completely soothe his throat, but it helped relieve the irritating itchiness exponentially. 

“That was… a pretty big fight.” The bed creaked quietly beneath Eric’s weight as he crawled beside his boyfriend. Not too close, much to the Host’s disappointment, but a comfortable relationship could only do so much for his nerves. “Google’s still getting fixed…”

It was something unimportant, truly. Their dispute never devolved into violence, however, a lot was said during what was supposed to be a civil conversation. Perhaps they were both pent up and needed an excuse to let out their anger. Either that or they  _ really _ cared about which form of medium was better: ebooks or physical books. Nonetheless, their argument ended with a voiceless Host and a Google that fried his systems. At least the Host wasn’t alone in his torment. There was some smug, petty part of him that loved that he took someone down with him. 

There was some shuffling of papers coming from Eric. Apparently he brought a book or something but the Host couldn’t tell. The Host blindly patted the empty space next to him, searching for Eric’s hand or, well, anything really. Eventually Eric got the hint and scooted closer, leaning his head against the other’s shoulder.

“It’s, um, weird not hearing you,” Eric giggled. “I-I’m so used to… to your voice all the time.” 

The Host would have laughed along, if not for his throat feeling like it’s infested by angry fire ants. Eric exhaled loudly through his nose, surely feeling sympathy whilst looking at the Host’s poor state. He kept flipping through what sounded like a book, this time accompanied by the scratch of pencil on paper. 

A single tap on, what the Host assumed was, Eric’s arm got his boyfriend’s attention in no time. He turned his head towards the book’s sounds, tilting his head in a questioning manner. Having his world completely dark made with realize how much he needed to know things. What kind of bug buzzed into his room? Who walked passed his doors? What were they talking about as they walked through the halls? His boyfriend making unknown sounds was no different.

“I’ve been drawing again,” Eric answered the silence. In his lap was a sketchbook he has been doodling in for a while. A hobby he was afraid to express under certain circumstances, but otherwise felt safe practicing in his current living conditions. “King, he showed me one of, um, his squirrels! She was so cute! So I asked if, if I could draw her.”

The Host hummed with that scratchy tone of his. But that didn’t matter. He had a visual of the scene now. A warm mug of tea, his boyfriend cuddling close, some sort of sketchbook, and a picture of a squirrel. The peace that came with those certainties was brief, however. There was still some blank images. What did the picture look like? Was there a background or just the squirrel? Did the squirrel look a certain way? There are dozens of different squirrels, and King was known to have many. 

Honestly, the Host was getting tired of his curiosity. The consequences of being a damned know-it-all… 

“Can I, um, describe it to you?” The Host nodded quickly. Thank god Eric could need him like an open book. 

Through sips of tea, the Host tried to hide his relief. Though he must be doing a bad job given Eric’s stifled giggles. 

“It-It’s nothing special… King said she’s a red squirrel,” Eric said while staring at his drawing. Unsteady words left his mouth. An incompetent version of the Host’s poetic narrations. “Really fluffy, especially the, um, the tail. Her fur was like a… a dirty red? Wit-With a white belly! She loves tummy rubs, a-apparently, but I didn’t wanna hurt her…” A fond smile made its way on his lips as he reminisced about the encounter. “I think it looks okay. I-I hope King doesn’t hate it… I was gonna show it to him tomorrow.” 

Damn his ailment for making him not able to spew countless reassurances to his boyfriend. All the Host could do was press a kiss on top of Eric’s head and settle in their embrace further. It was silent again, but this time he didn’t mind the ambiance. He finished his tea and tried to clear his throat. Still scratchy. Still very much in pain. Not the worst, though. He tried to look at the bright side in his dark world.

The picture was complete now. That persistent tick in his mind was finally satisfied with the full setting. While a bit hazy, he imagined a cute drawing of the squirrel Eric drew alongside the rest of the room’s details. He has seen a couple of Eric’s drawings before. They were simple, soft, and realistic. Eric had a calming artstyle that radiated his personality perfectly, but he often ridiculed his skill. The Host, and many others, insisted on spewing praises at his talent. 

“I hope you get better soon,” Eric said. He put his sketchbook down and wrapped his arms around the Host. “You shouldn’t have - have argued like that, though! That was so… so dumb!”

A smug, unremorseful smile was all the Host responded with. Was he going to apologize to Google later? Probably. Was he going to somehow make sure Google apologized to him, too? Definitely. For now, all that mattered was the setting before him. The silence wasn’t deafening anymore, so long that he has someone else to endure it with. So he waited patiently. The minutes and hours he counted became much more comfortable in their peaceful seclusion. 

**Author's Note:**

> Host is a know-it-all and basks in that fact. He is gonna absorb all the information and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Host’s a sponge confirmed. No one reads these notes so they’re gonna get more and more weird as time goes on. Let’s go gamers. 
> 
> Also describing just sounds and physical sensations cause Host couldn’t see anything was fun! Interesting process, to say the least. 
> 
> Tumblr: LamiasLuck


End file.
